I thought I had grasped the outlines of that personality in the first interview, as we often do on forming a new acquaintance; but surprises were yet in store for me.  Aunt Rennie needed but little pressing to stay the night, and then to add a second and a third day to her visit:  she was staying with some friends in the neighbourhood, and, it appeared, could easily transfer herself to us.  And as the time went on, I began to feel that she had some secondary object in coming and in staying:  I thought I perceived a kind of diplomatic worldliness in Aunt Rennie, which jarred with my first impression of her.  I felt sure that her purpose was in some way connected with Tabitha and John.  She had, of course, heard of Tabitha’s friendship for him from her own letters, and John she had known before we did.  Well, it was on the fourth day that Aunt Rennie, sitting cosily beside me, startled me by suddenly and lightly remarking, that if I would consent, she wished to take Tabitha back with her, at any rate for a time, to her home in the South of England; she was almost necessary to her in her work at the present juncture:  no one could act as her Secretary so efficiently as Tabitha could.

“Besides, to tell you a little secret,” she added, with a charming air of confidence and humour, “there is someone besides me that wants Tabitha back:  there is an excellent prospect for her, if she could only turn her thoughts in that direction.  You have heard of Horace Wetherell, my second cousin—­a rising barrister?  Ah, well, a little bird has whispered things to me.  His prospects are now very different from what they were when she was with me before, or I don’t think she would ever have come to you, to say the truth!  We must not let her get involved in anything doubtful.  As you know, I have been acquainted with this John Chambers and his family all my life.  He is a good fellow enough, but will never set the Thames on fire.  She is exactly suited to my cousin, who is a man of the highest and noblest character, and could not fail to make her happy.  It is only to take her away for a time, and I feel sure all will be well.  I knew, my dear friend, that a word to you was enough, for Tabitha’s sake:  and so we will settle it between us.”

I said little in reply, for I was suffering keenly.  I felt as if this fair, clever woman had struck a deliberate blow at my happiness, and in a way to leave me resistless.  I could not deny that it might be for Tabitha’s good to go away.  Certainly John was poor, and in fact I had thought lately that that might be the reason the engagement was delayed.  Tabitha was only twenty-two, and she might change her mind.  I murmured that I would leave it to Tabitha to decide; and as Aunt Rennie turned away, I remember thinking that she was rather young to decide another woman’s destiny in such a matter.  She was only six years older than Tabitha.

* * * * *